


Fred Weasley / Ravenclaw Reader (Hide and Seek)

by musicalcrimescene



Series: George/Fred Weasley Short Stories [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cormac is a cheater and a bitch, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fred teaches her how to have fun!, Friends to Lovers, Hide and Seek, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reader is kinda boring, Reader thinks Fred likes Angelina, Strangers to Lovers, sorry if you like cormac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalcrimescene/pseuds/musicalcrimescene
Summary: “What?” You ask. “What’s so funny.” His lips are pressed together and it’s obvious he’s trying to hold back a laugh. Soon enough he’s not able to hold it in any longer and he bursts out in laughter. You cross your arms with a frown and wait for him to finish.When he finally does, he looks at you, completely amused. “Oh, Mason, we’ve got a long way to go if you wanna learn.” At this you brighten up.“So you’ll teach me?” You give a hopeful look, your smile real this time. He returns it.“Yeah, sure,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “I’ll teach you how to have fun.”
Relationships: Fred Weasley & Reader, Fred Weasley/Reader
Series: George/Fred Weasley Short Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012857
Comments: 15
Kudos: 110





	Fred Weasley / Ravenclaw Reader (Hide and Seek)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello loves! Sorry it's been a while, I just finished up finals and packed up to go home for winter break. 'Tis the season and all.
> 
> I feel like this one isn't quite as good as the others, but I thought it was cute and so I decided to post it anyway. As always, it's unedited so apologies in advance. Also I have only minor beef with Cormac McLaggen (I thought his last name was McCarthy the whole time I was writing this so I had to change it lol) bc he was kinda trashy with Hermione, but other than that he was just the first person who came to mind. Looking back, too, I realized that I kinda went off on a feminist rant pretty early on, so whoops! But I stand by everything I said, reader takes NO shit.
> 
> Also, THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!! The comments you guys leave make me wanna CRY, they're so sweet!!! I love you all and appreciate everything you do! Much love and enjoy!

You weren’t expecting to break up with your boyfriend that day. In fact, you were resigned to the fact that the two of you would probably stay together until the end of the school year and wouldn’t get around to talking much over the summer, and finally a letter would be sent by either of you and the relationship would be over. That was the way you expected things to go.

You did not expect to find him snogging a Slytherin fifth year in a broom cupboard on your rounds that evening. You’d barely seen him all day, which honestly wasn’t as much of a bother and it perhaps should have been. Instead, the day was peaceful and nice, so of course something bad had to happen to balance it out.

You’re walking through the halls with your fellow Ravenclaw prefect Roger, listening to him go on about this game he had created with Dennis Aldermaston when the two of you heard muffled sounds coming from the broom cupboard up ahead. Pausing, the two of you look at each other for a moment, silently debating who will be the one to open the door. It’s always so awkward when you catch couples in the midst of their trysts. 

Raising an eyebrow, Roger raises a fist and says, “Thumb war over it?” Rolling your eyes, you shove his hand away and walk up toward the closet. Sighing, you give a quick knock and wait a few moments before yanking the door open. Giving your sternest look, or what others would call your usual face, you prepare to give your prepared speech regarding school rules and regulations, but the sight makes you stop, mouth still open.

Inside the closet stands your boyfriend, Cormac McLaggen, tangled up in the arms of a Slytherin girl. You’re not sure what her name is, but you recognize her from the year below you and Cormac. From what you’ve heard, she’s a friendly girl. Apparently too friendly.

You close your mouth only to open it again, and when still nothing comes out you freeze. Cormac and the Slytherin girl don’t say anything either. Cormac is staring abc at you, eyebrows raised but face eerily calm. The girl is too busy rushing to button up her shirt to notice the tension.

Noticing that nothing has happened, Roger comes over to stand beside you. “Hey, what's the hold- “ He stops when he sees who’s in the closet, eyes quickly darting over to you and your face as he sucks in a breath. By now you’re staring blankly back at Cormac, who still has said nothing. By now the girl has finished buttoning her shirt and looks to you, ready to say something, but once she notices the look on your face and then Cormacs, she decides to keep her mouth closed. Smart.

Finally, you break the silence. “Roger,” you say, voice monotone and stiff. “Can you please take the lady back down to her common room? I’ll take care of him.” Roger opens his mouth to say something, but at the fierce look you give him he closes his mouth and nods, gesturing for the girl to follow him. Watching them leave, you can’t help but look the girl over. She really is quite pretty.

It takes a moment for you to look back over to Cormac, mostly because you’re a coward on the inside and want to delay the inevitable for as long as you can. And so there you stand in silence, waiting for the strength to do something. Soon enough, Cormac has had enough.

“Look,” he says. At the sound of his voice you start, all of a sudden being filled with the fury your mind hadn’t yet processed. Whipping your head toward him with your harshest glare, you see his eyes widen before you grab the end of his tie and yank him forward, dragging him along with you and you begin to walk. He cries out and protests behind you, but you pay him no mind.

When you’ve stomped around enough to gain enough sense that you know you’ll be able to perform a coherent sentence, you head for the nearest classroom and open the door, shoving him in. You walk in after him, shutting the door and whispering a locking charm on the knob. After taking a deep breath, you turn around to face him, finding him casually leaning against a desk, hands in his pockets. His tie was undone and his shirt was still half unbuttoned. This only served to heighten your fury.

“Cormac McLaggen, you self-serving bastard.” You take a few steps towards him before deciding you don’t want to get any closer to the boy and instead turning away. Looking toward the front of the classroom you think you see some kind of movement. You narrow your eyes for a moment, but shake it off, figuring it was a shadow.

You drag a hand through your hair before spinning back toward him, one hand pointing at him and the other clenched in a tight fist by your side.

“I shouldn’t even have brought you here. I should have taken a hundred damn points from your house and sent your ass packing. I should be doing anything else other than standing alone in a room with you, but dammit, McLaggen... “ You pause, lowering your hand. For a moment, you let yourself feel the stinging hurt in your chest, but when tears threaten to spring to your eyes, you shut it back down. Later. Not in front of him. 

“Why?” You throw the question out at him, and allow yourself to look him over. He has the decency to look a little ashamed, but it’s completely ruined by his casual stance and then a shrug of his shoulders. He cheated and now he’s shrugging?

“No, Cormac,” you say, stalking closer. “You don’t get to just shrug it off. I’m not some bad play in a quidditch match. I’m not a botched homework assignment. I’m your girlfriend, and more than that I’m a person. You don’t get to cheat on me and then shrug it off.” By now you’re in front of him, and though your hands are shaking, you tilt your head up. I refuse to let him get the better of me.

Finally, he looks at you, but just for a moment before lowering them to the ground. He mumbles something and while you’re close to him, you’re not close enough to hear it. 

Frowning, you say, “Don’t mumble, McLaggen. Speak up.” Rolling his eyes, he brings them up to your face again. If there was any bit of guilt or regret on his face before, it’s completely gone now.

“I said,” he enunciates, “that you’re boring, Mason.” Your glare drops at his words along with your posture and any hold you had over the situation. Seeing you drop, he pushes himself off the desk, taking a step toward you. You stumble back.

“You’re a stick in the mud and, worse, you’re a prude. You’re always nagging me about homework and rules, and when I try anything you pull away, saying you’re ‘not ready.’” He rolls his eyes again, putting his last two words in quotation marks. He’s continued stepping forward, and by now your lower back is pressed against the desk behind you. He doesn’t stop walking. Now, he’s looking you straight in the eyes,

“We barely snog, and when we do it’s after weeks of nothing. I don’t care if you want to save yourself for marriage or whatever, but I have needs. You weren’t providing, so…” He trails off and shrugs again. This time, the shrug hurts more than angers you. It’s like he’s shrugging off your relationship, like it meant nothing to him. You want to say something, but you can’t open your mouth. So, he continues.

“Look, you’re pretty and all, so I thought I’d ask you out, break my dry spell, you know?” 

You don’t know. 

“But seriously, you’re no fun at all. It’s been months, Mason. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Force you?” With that, he takes another step forward, leaning down close to you. Reaching a hand around, he grabs your ass, squeezing and using his hold you press you close to him. His other hand is leaning on the desk on your other side. You feel trapped. You are trapped.

Smirking down at you, he continues. “Now, that would have been fun, but I figured cheating would be easier for all of us.” For a second, just a second, you feel like you’re not here, in this empty classroom with this empty boy. You feel as though you’re weightless. His hand isn’t on your ass, you’re not trapped here, you weren’t just cheated on. For a second, you feel calm.

The next second your jaw is clenched so hard it aches and you don’t think your cheeks have ever felt this hot. Your heart seems to kickstart to life, beating so hard that you feel it in your stomach. For a second, you no longer see Cormac in front of you. You don’t see the figure another bit of movement out of the corner of your eye either.

You’re not entirely sure about the third second, but by the fourth you’re confused and satisfied and your hand hurts. Looking down at it, you see that it’s red and two of your knuckles are split and starting to bleed. Looking further down, you see Cormac. Except, he isn’t where he was. Now he’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, hands clutching his face and groaning. When he pulls his hand away you see more blood. He moans.

You don’t entirely know what happened, but you can piece most of it together and the rush of it feels amazing. In fact, it carries through until the fury from earlier comes back full force and you raise yourself up, straightening your shoulder and glaring down at him. How dare he.

“Cormac McLaggen, don’t you dare touch me that way.” Looking up at you, hands still on his face, he attempts to stand. You don’t let him rise more than a few centimeters before you raise your leg and shove your foot against his shoulder, pushing him down on the ground. Another rush of adrenaline courses through you and you grin. Wicked.

“More than that,” you say, voice rising, “don’t you dare touch any woman like that. Our bodies are not yours to touch or grope. In fact, you’ll be lucky if any woman who’s experienced your personality willingly lets you within five meters of her, you selfish, misogynistic twat.” You step around him to his side and put your foot on his chest, lightly but firmly enough to keep him down. His face blanches.

“How do you feel, McLaggen? Trapped? Afraid? Do you wish I wasn’t touching you like this? You lean down a bit, still keeping far enough away from him. “This is what it feels like, Cormac, when you box a woman in and tell her what her worth is to you. This is how it feels when you’re forced into an uncomfortable position because someone else thinks they have the right to do whatever they want.”

You straighten up and lift your foot off of his chest. After a moment, you get an idea and decide to run with it, making a big show of wiping your foot on the ground, as though he left a stain on the bottom of your shoe. 

Crossing your arms, you look down at him, not glaring, just with a stern look. “You don’t have that right, McLaggen. No man does, because a woman is not written in braille. You don’t have to touch her to get an answer you decide to ignore anyway.”

Turning away from him, you walk to the front of the room and lean yourself against the desk meant for the professor. You don’t smile, but you find a sort of happiness at watching him struggle up to his feet, face still smeared in blood. I guess I got him well in the nose.

When he’s finally standing, he looks at you, shock and anger on his face. You decide you’re done with this. With him.

“Out,” you say, your tone not one to be messed with. With one last glare, he jerks away and heads toward the door. Before he can leave though, you call his name one last time. He doesn’t turn around, but he does stop. Now you let yourself grin.

“I hope you get what you want, McLaggen. I hope you get fucked.” With that, the door slams behind him and you’re left alone in the room with a quickly weakening grin. It eventually wears down to a slight frown and you close your eyes, taking shaky breaths. Sliding down the side of the desk, you land on the ground, knees pull up to your chest and your hands cover your eyes. You try your best to regulate your breathing, but it still quickens and comes only in shallow bursts. Tears spring to your eyes as well, and this time you’re not able to quell them. 

You’re sitting there in the empty classroom, struggling to prevent a panic attack and wiping tears from your eyes, when suddenly a body appears. And you don’t mean that he came out from behind a desk or walked into your line of sight. You mean a head just appeared, quickly followed by the rest of the body as a sort of cloak drops to the floor. 

You squeak in surprise, eyes wide and heart beating faster. You stare up at him and though your vision is blurry through your tears, you can see who it is. Or, more honestly, who it might be. You’ve never seen the Weasley twins apart from one another, and you’ve certainly never interacted with them outside of the classroom or when you caught them sneaking about in the hallways after hours, so you’ve never needed to tell who was Fred and who was George. What you do know, however, is that one of them is standing in front of you with the widest grin on his face.

“Bloody hell, Mason, where did that come from? I don’t think I’ve heard you curse once in our six years here, but Merlin! You sure gave him a showing. Absolutely wicked, Mason.” He gestures around excitedly as he says this, voice loud and uncaring of what was clearly the wrong setting for his exclamations. You just stare up at him, breath still coming in hiccups and tears still spilling down your face. When you don’t say anything to him, he looks down, confused, and finally seems to notice the state you’re in.

“Oh,” he says, arms dropping to his sides. Oh, indeed you think bitterly, ducking your head between your legs and placing both hands on the back of your head. Deciding to ignore the apparently insensitive Weasley, you focus instead on your breathing. You absolutely refuse to have a panic attack in front of someone else, especially someone you’ve only spoken to a handful of times 

His footsteps cross the room to you and hesitate for a moment before you hear him shuffling about and, finally, sitting down next to you, back leaning on the desk. You don’t say anything, but you can feel his presence, silent and present next to you. After a moment, you feel a hand touch your back and you flinch, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he starts rubbing his hand up and down along your spine in what you suppose is meant to be a comforting manner.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you push the twin (Fred? George?) out of your mind. You take a deep breath in through your nose, hold it, and breath out through your mouth. You focus on the floor below you, the draft coming from the windows, and, grudgingly, the feeling of Weasley’s hand on your back.

You’re not sure how long you sit there in silence trying to regulate your breathing, but eventually the tightness in your chest loosens and you feel in control again. Taking one last deep breath, you let your hands fall to your sides and lean your head up, straightening a bit. His hand pauses on your back, and after a moment he pulls it away. You take the opportunity to lean against the desk behind you and stretch your legs out. You feel exhausted.

“Are you ok?” You hear the hesitance in his voice and you almost smile, but you don’t answer quite yet. Instead, you think about the night and the fact that Weasley apparently saw the whole thing and you close your eyes, sighing.

“You know, I don’t even know why I agreed to date him,” you say, going for nonchalance. You hope it came across that way to him. “He came up to me one day when I was with my friends, and he just asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him. I had barely spoken to him before, only once, maybe twice. My friends encouraged it, so I said yes.” You open your eyes.

You remember that day. It was only a few months ago when it happened. He had approached you in the hallway when you were talking with Roger, Dennis, and your best friend Yvonne. There had been no preamble, no metaphorical verbal foreplay. Just, “Mason, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Roger was stunned, Dennis laughed a bit, and Yvonne nearly squealed. She had latched onto your arm, whispering “Oh, my god, mason, say yes,” and, not knowing what else to do, you had done just that. We went together that weekend, Yvonne trailing behind the entire time and dragging Roger and Dennis along with her. It had been a decent date. He had been respectful and kind and even made me laugh. When he asked you to be his girlfriend, you had no reason to say no. He kissed you, and it was fine.

Since then it’s been what you would consider a relationship. He’d carry your books, you’d go to his quidditch matches. He’d kiss you goodbye when he walked you to your common room, you’d smile and say thank you. He’d ask for more, the feeling in your gut screamed no, and you came up with an excuse. You suppose he had eventually figured out that you weren’t on your period for two months straight and became frustrated. He grew distant. You pretended like it bothered you. Then, tonight, this happened.

Thinking back, you’d like to think you have no idea why you stayed in that relationship for so long. It was mediocre, average, and didn’t make you feel anything special. He didn’t make you feel special. But, in reality, you knew exactly why you stayed. It’s the same reason he was sorted into Gryffindor and you into Ravenclaw. I’m a coward.

You realize you’ve been sitting in silence for a while, and you look over at the Weasley twin to see him looking back, attempting to be patient but really just waiting for you to say more. You smile a bit.

“So,” you say, letting it draw out a bit. “What are you doing sneaking around with an invisibility cloak after hours, Fred?” You had taken a bit of a gamble on the name, but figured it was a fifty-fifty shot and, with enough confidence, you could play off a possibly correct answer with his assumption that you knew all along. By the brief look of surprise on his face, your guess had been correct.

That surprise, however, soon turned into a faux bashful smile. Rubbing the back of his head, he responded, “Would you believe me if I said my sixth sense was telling me a lady needed comforting and I just couldn’t leave her to cry alone?” You narrow your eyes a bit and open your mouth, prepared to give him your lecture on rules and regulations, the same one you had almost given to McLaggen and the Slytherin girl, when you stopped. His words played over in your mind again.

You’re a stick in the mud and, worse, you’re a prude. You’re always nagging me about homework and rules… seriously, you’re no fun at all. You know you should ignore them; after all, they came from the mouth of an abhorrent excuse for a boy, but still. The words stung then and they sting now. You close your mouth. You were even just about to give Fred Weasley a lecture on being out late after he had sat here for half a bloody hour comforting you.

Fred sees your pause and he frowns. “What’s wrong?” Looking up at him, his genuine concern and the kindness on his face, you decide to be honest. Letting out an awkward chuckle, you rub the back of your neck.

“I guess I really can be a stick in the mud, can’t I? I really am… no fun at all.” You frown as you start to realize how true his words are. You’re a prefect, so you always say it’s your duty to be so responsible, but still. You chastised first years when they were too loud in the common room. You lectured your roommates on the importance of cleanliness and order. You even took house points away when students ran down the halls, no matter if they were laughing or playing games or simply late to class. You turn away from Fred and glare at the floor.

“Hey, hey, come on,” you hear him say. His hand reaches to your lap and grabs one of your own. You tense up, but don’t pull away.

“Sure, you’re a stick in the mud. And yeah, you seem to love the rules more than your own mother.” With that, you turn around to him and glare. He raises his free hand in response. “Ok, sorry, I’m sure you love your mum very much. My point is, you can be a bit… strict.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“And this is helping how?” You expect an answer, but he just shrugs. You narrow your eyes. What is it with boys and shrugging. Removing your hand from his, you move to stand up, brushing dust off of your pants as you do so. Your plan is to head back to the dormitory and pretend this never happened, but Fred’s hand stops you. You look down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What I mean is…” Still holding your hands, he tugs himself up so he’s standing as well. You’ve never realized until now just how tall the twins are. Here he is, right in front of you, and you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. 

“What I mean is, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. McLaggen is an ass and an absolute prick, but he’s not right about you. You’re strict, sure, but that’s what makes you such an excellent prefect. And yeah, you follow the rules like they’re the bloody law, but you’re respected and trusted and one of the best students in our year. Hell, probably one of the best in the school.” 

You start to blush at this. You don’t know what Weasley’s game is, but you suppose you know why he’s saying this and you can’t help but find it almost… sweet. He takes a step closer and you’re sure that eye contact has never felt this intense before.

“You said it yourself, Mason. His words don’t define your worth, so don’t let them.” He gives a lopsided grin at this. “I’ve seen you reign hell on a guy who weighs twice as much as you do wet. Don’t let him of all people make you feel less than you are.” You blink up at him, stunned. Sure, you don’t know the Weasley twins that well, but not once in your life did you ever expect such serious, genuinely touching words to come out of one of their mouths. You open your mouth in an attempt to respond, but before you can he gives you a blinding smile and continues speaking.

“So,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Was that enough to get out of you giving me detention?” Your mouth drops in disbelief. Huffing, you remove your hand from his and give him a light shove in the shoulder. Normally, you’d give him a warning look and deduct house points. Now, though, you only turn away to hide your smile. You have a feeling he knows it’s there anyway.

Walking towards the door, you wait until it’s open and you’re at the threshold before looking back and responding. “Let’s see how you behave on the way back to your common room, Weasley, and then I’ll let you know.” Grinning, he gives you a salute and follows behind you out the door and down the hall.

It’s a silent walk for the most part, and when you reach the portrait leading to the Gryffindor common room you stop and turn towards Fred. Raising an eyebrow in the direction of his cloak, you say, “This isn’t the end of that conversation, Weasley. I’d like to know what exactly you were doing in that classroom with an invisibility cloak of all things.”

Looking back up at him, he gives you a wink. “If it helps, it’s not mine.” You give him a flat look.

“No, it doesn’t. But…” Biting your lip, you hesitate, not sure what to say. It feels strange to leave what happened tonight unacknowledged, but it would be embarrassing to bring it back up again. Deciding to bite the bullet, you look up at him again only to find him not looking at your eyes, but rather at your mouth. Seeing your now present frown, he meets your eyes again, smiling as though nothing is wrong.

“Anway, I just wanted to say thank you, Weasley. You shouldn't have been there in the first place, but… I appreciate you being there. For me. Comforting me, I mean. It was… nice.” You can feel your face flushing and you cough awkwardly into your hand. Of course now is the time that eloquence evades you.

You see Weasley’s smile and flush even more. “Of, course, Mason,” he says, dipping into a deep bow. You press your lips together in an attempt not to smile. “It is my honor and pleasure to assist any maiden in need of support. Though, by the looks of it you can take care of yourself.” He gives you a smirk as he straightens up and, deciding not to hold yourself back, you give him a smirk too. 

His smile widens at that and he turns around, giving the password to the fat lady. As the portrait swings open, he looks back at you, a soft smile on his face. 

“Night, Mason,” he says in a low voice. You nod back.

“Night, Weasley.” And with that, the portrait closes behind him. Despite what happened tonight, you can’t help but smile as you make your way back to the common room. If anything, you felt... lighter.

**********

Despite asking questions about your puffy eyes and disheartened mood all during breakfast, you wait until your short break before classes begin to tell your friends what happened the night before. You leave out what happened with Fred for now, figuring it was less important. Besides, it’s not like the two of you are suddenly going to be friends now.

You just finished going through the events of last night, and looking over at Yvonne you can tell she’s about to burst. You sigh and wave a hand in her direction, signaling she was good to explode now. And explode she does.

“That bastard!” Normally you’d scold her on using that sort of language in the hallway, but now you just sigh and nod. You try not to think of McLaggen’s harsh words about being a bore. Instead, your mind drifts back to what Fred said after… You blush slightly. 

You open your mouth to say something, but never get the chance. Yvonne tackles you into a hug, making you stumble back a bit at the force of it. She holds you in a death grip, muttering both sweet and scary reassurances in your ear, like “you deserve so much better than him, you deserve the world” along with “he has arithmancy today, right? Oh sweet Merlin he better watch his back, I’m going to hex his balls clean off.”

Looking over her shoulder at Roger and Dennis, you see respective looks of absolute fury and cold calculation. Dennis often describes himself as a living Rube Goldberg machine, allowing small actions to build up into one often devastating event. You really don’t want to know what he’s currently planning.

Sighing, you rub your hand along Yvonne’s back, comforting her more than she’s comforting you. “Guys, I appreciate the anger and the loyalty-” You’re interrupted by Roger.

“I’ll kill him.” He says it matter of factly, as though it would be as simple as passing his next exam. You raise an eyebrow and he relents, raising his hands.

“Like I said, I appreciate it, but it’s really unnecessary.” You give a wicked grin. “Besides, I think breaking his nose was enough of a lesson.” At this Yvonne jumps back from you, hands still holding your arms. 

“Um, excuse me, what? Mason, did you break his nose?” You’re about to respond when you feel a presence behind you and suddenly an arm is wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you against the side of someone much taller than you. Startled, you take a sharp breath in and try not to notice how nice this person smells. Really nice…

“Oh, she did more than just break his nose. I’m pretty sure she made the git cry.” Looking up, you see Fred Weasley grinning at your friends as though this is a normal thing for him to be doing. Roger and Dennis look confused and protective, but Yvonne’s just gaping at the Weasley twin. Yvonne is pretty tall herself, a decent number of centimeters taller than you, but even so Fred manages to tower over her.

“Um… what?” You roll your eyes at Yvonne’s eloquence. She’s taken a step back at Weasley’s arrival, letting her hands drop from your arms. Her eyes look back and forth between you and Fred, clearly wondering what’s going on.

Ignoring her, you say a simple, “Fred,” in greeting. He squeezes your shoulder in acknowledgement.

“She didn’t mention it? McLaggen got her all boxed in, spewing absolute rubbish, and she just knocked him right in the nose, sending him sprawling on the ground.” Weasley’s spoken only two sentences, and yet he already has your friends leaning in, eager to hear more. You raise an eyebrow. He really is quite the sociable person. As he leans in towards your friends as well, you pretend not to notice that his arm is still around your shoulder.

“He didn’t get a single word in, after that. Kicked him to the ground, she did, kept him pinned there by her foot. Oh, you should have seen the absolute raving she gave his poor arse. Bloody brilliant, she was - all powerful and righteous. Quite the beautiful sight.” At that he looks at you for the first time since arriving here and gives you a wink. You roll your eyes to direct his attention away from the slight blush on your cheeks and give him a shove, letting his arm drop from your shoulder.

He chuckles and raises his hands. “I’m just being honest here, Mason.” You can’t quite hide your smile this time and look at him out of the corner of your eye. You’re sure he sees the smile anyway, based on the pleased look on his face. 

“Yes, yes,” you say, turning fully towards him. “Don’t you have class to get to, Weasley?” He shrugs and puts his hands in his pocket, giving you a grin.

“Depends,” he replies. “Will you be there?” You’re confused for a moment before remembering that you share your first class of the day with the Weasley twins. In fact, thinking through your schedule, you share quite a few classes with them. You suppose the professors thought Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was a better pair than Gryffindor with Slytherin. You honestly don’t know what their grudge towards the other house is. Apart from the obvious few, such as the blood purists and upcoming death eaters, the rest of the house was quite charming. Ah, but you digress.

Cocking your head, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Of course I’ll be in class. Why would I not be?” He gives you a grin and shrugs his shoulders. You narrow your eyes at this, but to your surprise he continues.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe in case you’ve taken a certain git’s words to heart and decided to play truant?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can tell he’s trying to play it off as banter, but you see the concern under his smile and playful words. At that, you can’t help but soften just a little.

“No,” you say, voice gentler than before. “I don’t plan on skiving off, so don’t worry. I’ll be there.” His grin widens and you try not to let yours do the same. 

“Brilliant,” he says. “Then I’ll see you there.” He gives you another wink, nods at your flabbergasted friends, and with a final wave he walks away. You watch him leave for a few seconds before turning back to your friends, pausing at the looks they’re giving you. It’s like they think you’ve gone mad all of a sudden.

“What?” You get defensive, crossing your arms. This time Dennis speaks.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we’re just a little confused as to why you’re suddenly best mates with Fred Weasley, who, might I add, seems to have witnessed your break up first hand. Any explanation to that, Mason?” You suppose you should have just mentioned Fred’s presence earlier. Clearly it’s become more relevant than you thought it would have.

Lifting your shoulders up, you explain how he was already in the classroom with an invisibility cloak when you got there. You briefly mention how the two of you talked a bit after, but keep certain details to yourself. You don’t need your friends knowing he comforted you through a panic attack and McLaggen’s harsh words.

Before they can say anything, though, you look at your watch and notice the time. “We should get to class before we’re late,” you say, already walking away. You hear Yvonne’s huff of exasperation, but all of their footsteps follow you. Hopefully they’ll forget to ask more questions by the end of the day.

Yvonne catches up to you and links her arm through yours. “I’ll let it go for now,” she says, “but you better believe I’ll be asking you questions tonight when the guys aren’t around.” You smile at her. 

“Sure,” you say. Looks like she won’t be forgetting after all.

You walk through the door of the classroom and take your usual seat next to Yvonne at the front. Glancing behind you, you see that the Weasley twins were here before you. The two of them are sitting at the back of the room with some other Gryffindors, both leaning their chairs on its back legs, feet propped on the table. You give a slight huff of a laugh. Of course they can’t even sit in a chair properly.

You figure you’ve been looking too long when one of them, the one you’re pretty sure is Fred, looks back at you. Catching your eye, he gives you a wink. Blushing slightly, you wave your hand once with a small smile before turning to the front of the classroom just as professor Flitwick walks in. 

You try your best to pay attention during the lesson, but your mind keeps going back to Fred and McLaggen. They went about it in different ways, but they essentially said the same thing: you don’t know how to have fun. Frowning, you try to think of the last time you had fun in a social setting or outside of reading a good book. Sure, you enjoyed talking to your friends in the common room, but you don’t think that’s what either of them meant. 

Your frown deepens when you realize you’ve never done anything outside of your usual routine that others would consider fun. You rarely went to quidditch matches, preferring to stay inside and read while the common room was quiet. On Hogsmeade weekend you’d go with your friends to restock on supplies you need, but you usually headed back to the castle pretty early. Never did you go there on a date. In fact, you’ve never even been on a date. Yes, you were dating McLaggen, but the two of you never went to Hogsmeade or had a romantic afternoon out by the lake. It was always just walking to class together, studying together, or hanging out with friends together. 

You’re upset by this. Not by the fact that you’ve never been on a date with McLaggen, because you were hardly interested in him anyway. You’re upset that he was right about you being a bore. Perhaps you do have a bit of a stick up your arse, but you didn't notice until now. You were just doing as you were told.

Perhaps that’s the problem. Thinking of the Weasley twins, you can’t imagine a time when they weren’t smiling or laughing or having a good time. You also can’t imagine a time when they did as they were told. They might be an extreme example, but thinking of their laughs and pranks and the general love the school had for them, you can’t but feel a bit jealous. Not of the attention they received, but of their carefree nature in which they truly had fun. Something about the two of them made it seem like they were living on a different level than anyone else, as though they knew how to properly enjoy the life they were given.

Jaw set, you came to a decision. You anxiously waited for class to finish after that, leg shaking and fingers tapping on the desk you’re leaning on. When the bell finally rings, you shoot out of your seat and barely take the time to pack up your things before you’re moving. Ignoring Yvonne’s look of surprise, you head to the back of the classroom.

“Weasley,” you call out, getting the attention of Fred and George. Their friends notice as well, but you don’t even look at them, eyes focused on Fred. Looking over at his friends, Fred gives them a silent wave and they move along, heading for the door. Fred and George stand in front of you and your impatiently tapping foot, giving a questioning look at you and then between the two of them.

“Erm…” It’s George who speaks first. “D’you mean the both of us or just your Weasley?” You flush at his insinuation.

“He is not my Weasley, thank you very much. But yes, I mean just Fred, please. If you don’t mind.” George shrugs with a grin and gives his brother a wave before jogging to catch up with their friends. You watch as the other students file out of the room as well, followed by professor Flitwick. You didn’t mean to keep you and Fred alone, but you suppose this works as well. Looking back at him, you take in his raised brow and amused expression.

“Couldn’t get enough of me, eh? You know, if you wanted me in an empty classroom all you had to do was ask.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes. You suppose that is what it looks like. 

“No,” you say, “trust me, that’s not it at all.” You ignore his frown. “I’ve been thinking a lot about last night and what McLaggen said. And he’s right.” Fred immediately opens his mouth, you assume to protest based on the angry expression on his face, but before he can you cover his mouth with your hand. His eyes go wide, but you just move on.

“He isn’t right about everything he said, but he was correct when he said I don’t know how to have fun. And before you protest, you agreed with him, if you don’t remember. Of course, you were much kinder about it, but my point stands. I can’t remember the last I truly had fun and I’m certain my friends would laugh if you ask them. So, I have a proposition for you.” 

You remove your hand from his mouth, but as soon as you do, the word “kinky” leaves him. Glaring, you slap your hand back over his mouth.

“Not that kind of proposition, Weasley. Get your head on straight. I mean, you and George are almost the exact opposite of me. You hardly follow rules and you’re always having fun. So who better to ask, right?” You remove your hand once more, giving him a threatening look this time. He doesn’t spout out another joke, but his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“Ask me what?” At this you try and give him a smile, though you’re sure it comes off as awkward.

“I want you to teach me how to have fun.” At his bewildered expression, you continue. “I figure if you give me the basics, I can take some notes and figure out the best game plan as to how I can incorporate fun into my life without breaking any rules or neglecting my duties as a student and prefect.” You’re gesturing at your hands as you explain, looking down at them, and as soon as you glance back up at Fred’s face you frown.

“What?” You ask. “What’s so funny.” His lips are pressed together and it’s obvious he’s trying to hold back a laugh. Soon enough he’s not able to hold it in any longer and he bursts out in laughter. You cross your arms with a frown and wait for him to finish.

When he finally does, he looks at you, completely amused. “Oh, Mason, we’ve got a long way to go if you wanna learn.” At this you brighten up.

“So you’ll teach me?” You give a hopeful look, your smile real this time. He returns it.

“Yeah, sure,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “I’ll teach you how to have fun.”

**********

When you imagined your lessons with Fred, you pictured the two of you in a classroom with him at the board and you taking diligent notes. Perhaps George would be there as well, but either way you would come out with a clear sense of direction.

What you didn’t picture is the two of you standing on the ledge on the side of the hallway, looking over at the crowd of students walking by. You were hesitant at first, explaining how surely students aren’t allowed to stand up there, but at Fred’s insistence that there are no rules about it, you finally complied. Besides, he said, classes have just ended for the day and it’s doubtful any professor would care that much.

Now there you stand, hands and back pressed flat against the wall behind you as you try to ignore the whispering attention you get from the students in front of you. Fred, on the other hand, was soaking up the stares, already grinning from ear to ear. You look over to him.

“So what exactly is the point to us doing this?” Fred smiles down at you.

“Well, you’re a stickler for the rules and don’t wanna be, yeah?” Before you can correct him as that is definitely not what you said, he talks on.

“Well, the halls between classes are the prime spots for rule breaking. So, we’re going to stand up here, watch people break the rules, and then…” He looks at you, gesturing for you to finish the sentence.

“I don’t suppose you have punishment in mind, do you?” You say with a grimace. He just keeps smiling and shakes his head.

“Nope. We’re going to do nothing about it. If all goes well, this will help loosen you up a bit.” Frowning, you look back out at the crowd of people. For a moment you think this exercise will be easy enough. All you have to do is… nothing.

Then, of course, you find that it is not as easy as you originally thought. You see a group of fourth year boys running down the hallway, generally avoiding those around them, but still causing enough ruckus that everyone seems to notice. Immediately, you move to step down from your perch, but a hand catches your wrist to stop you. Looking up you see Fred raising his eyebrows at you, a knowing look on his face. Frowning, you puff up your cheeks and watch the boys, leaning back against the wall. You suppose they’re not doing any harm, but still. It’s important to be mindful of those around you. They also run serious risk of not paying proper attention and bumping into someone, possibly injuring them. You start to feel restless.

Fred’s grip on your wrist never wavers, though, and you successfully end up staying on your perch, watching the boys continue down the hall and around the corner. Sighing, you finally let the air out of your cheeks as you turn to Fred.

“How was that?” He looks down at you, smiling but shaking his head slightly. 

“An adorable try, Mason. We can do better, though.” You flush at his word choice, but still feel determined to succeed. Turning back to the crowd, you focus your eyes and look for anyone breaking rules, ignoring Weasley’s subsequent laugh.

Soon enough, you overhear a pair of passing girls speaking with such vulgar language that you nearly blush. Your instinct is to yell out to them, but you instead stay strong, straightening your posture and pressing more firmly against the wall. You don’t need Fred’s hand to stop you this time, though you now notice that it’s still wrapped around your wrist. He hasn’t let go yet.

Still, the students pass and you manage to take a deep breath, quelling the instinct to chastise them for public use of such foul words. When they too have turned the corner, you look up to Fred, excited and eager for his approval. When he sees your obvious desire for praise, his eyes soften and he gives you a smile.

“Well done there, much better.” You grin back up at him. It was a small step, but pride still filled your chest. You relaxed against the stone wall now, a pleased smile on your lips. The next bout of trouble, however, quickly shakes that grin.

Down the hallway, just within your sight you see your now ex-boyfriend. Not only that, but you see him pressing the Slytherin girl from last night against the wall, properly snogging her. Your smile crumbles on your face and quickly becomes a glare. Fred notices this and looks at you in concern before following your line of sight. When he spots Cormac and the girl, he glares as well.

“Twat,” you hear his mutter under his breath. You appreciate his protectiveness, and let your wrist slip from his hold, replacing it with your hand instead. He turns away from Cormac, looking at you with wide eyes. You smile softly up at him.

“It’s ok, Fred, really. Don’t worry about it. Looking past him back at Cormac, you say, “honestly the only thing I’m upset about is such public displays of what looks like horrid snogging. Poor girl.” He cracks a small smile at this and squeezes your hand before hopping off the ledge, tugging you down with him.

“Well, that’s enough of that for today, don’t you think? How about a trip to the kitchens for a quick snack before dinner, eh?” You look up to him, brows furrowed.

“But that’s against-” You stop yourself at the expectant look on his face. Sighing, you blow a strand of hair out of your face and tug him along, your hands still connected.

“Right, then let’s go. I’m relying on the assumption that you have enough experience doing this that we won’t get caught.” Swinging your hands a bit, he laughs.

“Oh trust me, love, we won’t get caught.” The rest of the walk to the kitchens is silent. At some point, the two of you had dropped hands as the hallway became too crowded and you had to separate for a moment. It isn’t until the two of you are sitting at a table in the kitchens eating all the snacks the house elves brought you that you begin talking again.

“You know,” you say thoughtfully, focused on the orange you’re peeling in front of you. “I know we only broke up last night, but I’m not at all upset about it. If anything, I feel better than I did when we were together.” You stop peeling to orange, letting your hands rest on the table in front of you. “Is that horrible of me? I’m not the least bit sad. Shouldn’t there be a phase in which I get over him and move on?”

You hear Fred snort and look up, watching him spread jam on his piece of toast. “Nah, it’s not horrible of you. You gave it a shot, sure, but you just weren’t interested in him. ‘S’not your fault he’s such a wanker.” Picking up his toast, he shoves a large bite into his mouth before continuing.

“And besides,” he says, spewing some crumbs, “it’s not like you lost a bloody Adonis or anything. McLaggen’s shite, you can do much better.” Grimacing in disgust, you wipe away the crumbs Fred spewed on the table. 

“Please, Fred, don’t-” You pause for a moment before looking up at him. He once more has that expectant look on his face. You narrow your eyes.

“I might be trying to pull that stick from my ass, Fred, but honestly, talking with your mouthful is disgusting.” You throw a piece of your orange peel at him and he laughs, swatting it away.

“Good on you, Mason. Good on you.” You tilt your head.

“What do you mean?” He smiles at you from across the table.

“Well, you asked me to help you learn how to have fun, you know, which is fine and all. I guess I was just worried you’d take McLaggen’s words to heart and try to, I don’t know, change yourself, I suppose.” You continue staring at him and he flushes a bit, focusing back down at his toast.

“I just mean that… well, in the hallway earlier, you stopped yourself from yelling at those kids. Now, though, you didn’t let yourself be pressured into watching me eat like a pig. It’s nice, I guess. You’re finding a balance between things you want to work on, but you’re not changing yourself completely. I like that.” He finishes his little speech by looking up at you, cheeks slightly red and a small smile on his face.

You look at him for a moment, thinking over his words. He’s right. You know you tend to be a bit uptight and you want to loosen up a bit, but you still like who you are. No boy, especially not McLaggen, is worth losing that over. You shrug at Fred.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He gets a pleased smile on his face, so you decide to tease him just a little. “Big surprise, that is.” He gasps at this and throws a little crumb at you, one that you don’t manage to avoid. Still, you’re laughing and for a moment you think that maybe this is what it’s like to have fun. What you don’t notice is the look on Fred’s face, his soft smile and affectionate gaze. He thinks this may be the first time he’s seen you truly have fun as well.

**********

A few days pass and finally the weekend comes. You allow yourself to sleep in a bit on Saturday, getting up at the last minute for breakfast. You find Yvonne and Dennis next to each other, Roger across from them. Sitting down, you join them for about ten minutes before standing, announcing you were going to the library. They all nod and you walk to the doors of the Great Hall, going through the options you have for what book to read.

Before you can get very far, however, an arm loops through yours and tugs you down the opposite hallway. Startled, you glance up and immediately deflate. Of course it’s Fred Weasley. Who else would attempt to kidnap someone in the middle of the hallway?

“Fred,” you say, deciding to accept your fate rather than resist. “What are you doing?” He looks down at you and gives one of his mischievous grins.

“We,” he says with some emphasis, “are going to play some quidditch.” You immediately come to a halt, trying to tug him back. He stops, looking back at you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I absolutely will not be playing quidditch. Perhaps I’ll watch you play quidditch if I can bring a book along, but in no way will I be playing.” He laughs and tugs you forward. As much as you dig your heels into the ground, he’s still able to drag you along. How strong is he?

You protest some more and continue to make dragging you a difficult task when finally he stops. You straighten yourself, trying to recover from pulling against him.

“Thank you. Now if you could-” You’re interrupted by a squeal that comes from your own mouth and he suddenly bends down in front of you and picks you up. You end up slung over his shoulder, his hand on your legs holding you down. Gaping, you pound your fist into his back.

“Frederick Weasley, put me down!” He only laughs in response. “Fred! Why do you even want to play quidditch so bad? Can’t you go play with your other friends who actually enjoy the game?” This time he responds.

“I am!” He exclaims. “Or, rather, they’re going to play with us. That way we can have actual teams and all.” 

You're stunned into silence for a moment. Eventually, all you manage to croak out is a simple, “what?”

“That’s right, Mason my dear. Quidditch is the perfect thing to loosen you up. Don’t worry, I got a broom for you and everything! The others are already down at the pitch.” 

You don’t quite know what to say to that, and so you just grumble out “I’m not your dear” before crossing your arms on his back and letting yourself be carried. I gotta say, you think as you look down, the view isn’t half bad. You flush as you catch yourself staring at Fred’s behind and tightly shut your eyes instead. I will not be eyeing up Fred Weasley. As if he’s some kind of mind reader, you hear Fred chuckle.

“You know, it’s ok if you look. I do have the nicer arse between George and I.” You flush and kick one of your legs, listening to his laughter. 

“Yeah, well it’s not ok if you look, even if I have the nicest arse out of all of you.” You smile a bit as you hear Fred gasp. 

“Was that a joke I just heard? A real joke?” You laugh a bit.

“No,” you say, “I was actually being completely serious.” He clicks his tongue.

“What a shame that is, because I was enjoying the rather nice view. You feel his hand squeeze your leg a bit, whether it was conscious or unconscious you don’t know, and you kick again. “Ok, ok, I give!” He laughs out.

The two of you make it down to the quidditch pitch, you still slung over Fred’s shoulder. When you say that you’ll come with him and there’s no need to keep carrying you, he responds with something about him needing to work out anyway and keeps walking. You don’t argue.

He does let you down, however, when his friends spot the two of you and begin wolf whistling. You flush and pound your fist against his back again, whispering a harsh, “put me down, Weasley.” Laughing, he complies and the two of you walk the rest of the way to the pitch.

“I’ll go get our stuff, Mason. You stay here, they’ll teach you what you need to know.” He puts his arm around your shoulders, hesitates for a moment, and then lets go, walking over to the tent where you assume his stuff is being kept.

Looking over at the rest of the group, you see George and Oliver Wood right by you. Everyone else is either talking on the field or up in the air already. You see what looks like Harry and Ron tossing some ball back and forth. Frowning, you look over at George and Oliver.

“So,” you say, hesitant as you’ve never really spoken to either of them. “What exactly do I do?” Oliver’s eyebrows raise in astonishment. 

“Do you not know how to play quidditch?” He asks the question as if it’s inconceivable that someone might not know the complicated rules and regulations. You shake your head.

“No, of course I know how to play. In theory, that is. I read a book on all the rules, so I understand the concept. I just don’t know what I do.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Well, Harry’s our only seeker, and since we’re splitting into teams I guess we need a second. You up for it, lass?” You can see the doubt on his face, and so you nod your head firmly, trying to look confident as he nods back and walks away. Once he’s gone you look over at George.

“So, uh… what’s a seeker do again?” George laughs and slings an arm over your shoulder, guiding you over to the edge of the field. The two of you look up at everyone already in the air and he starts pointing people out, explaining their positions and what they do during a match. 

“And finally, there’s the seeker,” he says, pointing up at Harry. “Seekers look for the snitch and try to catch it. That’s all you have to focus on.” He gives you a hard pat on the shoulder and you frown.

“So I’m supposed to go up against the youngest seeker in the past century, looking for a tiny golden ball that doesn’t want to be caught?” You look up at George, hoping for sympathy, but he just gives you a smile and another pat on the back.

“Yup! Needless to say, I’ll be on Harry’s team.” You laugh and elbow him in the side. You can’t even be mad. If you were George, you’d want Harry on your team too.

“Where’s Fred? He’s been gone for a bit. I thought he was just getting our stuff?” George looks over to the tent Fred disappeared into earlier and smirks.

“Looks like lover boy got caught up with a certain bird.” You follow his gaze and find Fred outside the tent with two brooms and some other equipment in his arms. Next to him is Angelina Johnson, fellow quidditch player and apparent friend of his. Or maybe more than a friend, according to George. You’ve never realized how pretty she is until now.

“Oh. Are they… together?” George, oblivious to your hesitance, gives you a wink.

“Oh, he wishes. He’s fancied her for the better part of the last year. Nearly asked her out at one point, but was interrupted by an angry Filch.” He laughs and you try to laugh along with him. On the inside, though, you were scolding yourself. Of course he’s interested in someone else, he’s lived a full life outside of your week-long friendship. In fact, you’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s interested in someone else. Maybe it’s because you selfishly feel as though he’s a good replacement to place your feelings on and feel special. Maybe you genuinely like him. 

You shake your head. Yes, you’ve known him for years, but you’ve only truly spent time with him outside of class in the past week. Certainly that’s not enough time to start fancying someone, is it?

You make a decision. Even if you do fancy him, it doesn’t matter. He’s doing you quite the favor, teaching you how to have fun. The least you can do in return is help him ask out the girl he likes.

You nod at George, and the two of you walk over to where Oliver is standing, calling everyone together. You try your best to follow as he goes through the adjusted rules of the game and different plays to practice while we’re out playing anyway, but you find it difficult to understand everything he’s saying. You’ve never felt so out of your league.

You notice Fred and Angelina coming up behind you, Fred silently holding out a broom for you. You take it with a smile and focus back on Oliver, trying not to dwell on the feeling of your hand brushing his as you grabbed the broom. Oliver finally stops spouting quidditch jargon and starts splitting everyone up in two teams. All you know is that George does in fact have Harry on his team and you have Fred on yours. You grimace a bit as you walk over to your side, trying not to feel too self-conscious. You’re sure everyone would rather have Harry than you.

Walking over, you spot Fred looking your way before shuffling over, creating a small spot next to him in the circle Oliver has started forming. You’re about to walk over until you see Angelina on the other side of that spot. Frowning, you wonder why Fred wouldn’t take the opportunity to stand next to her. Instead, you walk to the other side of Fred and nudge him over. He gives you a confused look but complies, moving over toward Angelina. 

Giving him a tense smile, you quickly look back to the center of the huddle where Oliver is going over plays and strategy. You try to pay attention, you really, do, but how much does a seeker need to know if their only job is to look for the damn snitch? 

Instead, your attention decides to slide over to Fred. He’s pulled on a jumper over the long sleeves shirt he was wearing earlier. It’s clearly hand knitted with a large ‘F’ on the front. It looks good on him, you think. Green is a good color on Fred.

Seeming to notice your attention, Fred glances at you, raising an eyebrow at your stare. You flush and shrug, looking away. You hear a low chuckle come from him and pretend you don’t notice how he shifts over a little closer so that your shoulders just barely touch.

As soon as Oliver’s done and you break, you pull away from Fred, putting your legs on either side of your broom. You watch as the others kick off into the air when you realize something vaguely important. 

“Fred!” You try to do a whisper shout, but it ends up coming out as just a shout that startles him as it catches his attention.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You blush a bit, shuffling on your feet.

“Um… the team doesn’t really rely on the seeker, does it? Like, it’s not a big deal if I don’t catch the snitch?” Fred looks like he’s trying not to laugh again and you sigh. “Yeah, I thought so.” You look up at everyone else already in the air.

“They’re not gonna get mad, are they? Because there’s no way I can beat Harry, I mean he’s incredible and I barely know how to play.” You look back at him, hoping he can give you some reassurance. Smiling, he walks over to you and you’re surprised when he grabs one of your hands. Lifting it up toward his face, he gives you a lopsided grin.

“Don’t worry, Mason. You’ll do great. Forget about Harry and the rest of them, just focus on yourself.” With that he lifts your hand up the remaining distance and places a light kiss on before dropping your hand. Within the next few seconds he’s mounted his broom and kicked off. You’re blushing furiously, but decide not to keep them waiting and follow after him.

The game starts and you hang back for a bit before deciding to move higher up. You try to convince yourself that it’s for a better vantage point, but really you just want to get out of the way of the action. You see Harry doing something similar and sigh in relief. At least you’re not messing up yet.

You watch the game below you for a few minutes, getting distracted by the fast-paced movements they all seem to be making with ease. Soon, though, you see Harry mixed in with the rest and suddenly remember that you’re not just a spectator. Shit. I forgot about the snitch.

Quickly glancing around, you try and figure out where Harry is going. It looks like he’s heading over to the other side of the pitch, and so you follow along from the other side of the field. Looking away from him, you turn in front of you and see if you can spot anything that might look like a snitch. You see some floating dandelion fuzz and even a bird, but no snitch. Sighing, you go back to just following Harry. 

You’re content with just flying along and looking for a bit, but in an instant Harry takes off, chasing what looks like nothing. Startled, you go after him and try to spot whatever it is he’s seeing. You spot it for a second, but the next it’s disappeared again and you groan in frustration. You’re definitely not going to make any progress trying to do this Harry’s way. 

Slowing down just a bit, you continue to follow along but start thinking strategy this time. You can’t chase and catch the snitch like he does, but surely you can use some other strategy to gain an advantage. An idea pops into your head and you grimace. It doesn’t sound fun, but it’s the only thing you can really think of. And if it doesn’t work, then you have an even worse back up plan.

The next second, you’re turning away from Harry, flying perpendicularly to him towards the other side of the field. You hear a shout from Oliver asking what you’re doing, but you ignore him. Instead, you lay in wait behind one of the towers decorated with the Hufflepuff colors and peak around the edge, waiting for Harry to come around. He seems to be doing a lap around the outside of the field, and so you wait for him to get close. When he’s within only a dozen meters you see something whizz by your head and immediately take off like a shot.

You immediately have distance on Harry, but you still doubt you can actually catch the snitch. Besides that, Potter’s gaining on you quickly. You steady yourself with your broom and you struggle out of the jacket you have on. Once one sleeve is off you switch to get the other off, not bothering to hold on when it flies off and behind you. You wait a moment before hearing a cry from Harry and then look behind you, seeing your jacket caught on his face and him trying to wrangle it off.

Laughing, you continue forward, seeing the snitch more easily now that you’re closer. Determined not to lose it this time, you tunnel your vision solely onto the snitch in front of you. For a moment, you feel exhilarated, like you can do anything. The next, you’re crashing into someone and tumbling towards the ground.

Luckily for you, you weren’t too far from the ground and only fell about ten feet. You can feel bruises forming already and you land on your back, the wind knocked out of you. Next to you, you hear another loud thump as the person you crashed into lands as well. Trying to catch your breath, you glance over at them. The first thing you see is blood, and you’re immediately on your hands and knees, crawling over to them.

Reaching them, you notice it’s Fred and you groan. Of course it’s Fred you crash into. Placing a hand on his cheek you look over him. He’s got a cut on his face, you assume from when you knocked into him, but other than that he seems ok.

“Fred, holy shit, I’m so sorry! Are you ok? Are you hurt? Please tell me you’re ok.” You run your hands up and down his torso and the legs, checking for any more injuries. You see him struggle to sit up a bit, resting on his elbow behind him as he chuckles.

“Mason I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me. What about you, though, are you hurt at all?” It’s his turn to run his eyes up and down your body. For the first time you notice the pain in your wrist but wave him off anyway.

“I’m fine, Fred, don’t worry. Holy hell, though, I’m so sorry, I should have been looking where I was going.” At that he laughs again.

“No, I should have been paying attention. I was too busy looking at Harry suffocating in your jacket to notice anything else.” You give a sheepish smile and look over at where Harry is. Everyone else, noticing the rough fall you and Fred took, landed and are heading over to you. Standing, you stick your hand out or him to take. He grabs it, but as soon as you start pulling him you gasp in pain. Quickly letting go, gently takes your arm and looks it over, seeing the swelling of your wrist.

He looks up at you and for the first time you see a serious look on his face. “You most certainly are not alright. You sprained your wrist, Mason. You should have told me.” Rolling your eyes, you watch and he pushes himself to his feet. By now everyone else has reached you, Harry still holding your jacket that’s not covered in mud. Giving you a sheepish look, he shrugs.

“Sorry,” he says. “I shoved it off and it fell on the ground.” You wave him off.

“It’s ok. I can wash it later.” You take it from him anyway and grimace at the mud staining it. A gust of wind blows and you can’t help but shiver. Damn. Now you regret throwing your jacket.

After a moment, something soft and thick covers your head. Pulling it off, you look down to see Fred’s green sweater with the large ‘F’ on it. Looking over, you see him back in the long sleeved shirt from before. You open your mouth to protest, but before you can he puts a hand up.

“Don’t bother trying. Just take it.” You nervously glance over at Angelina who’s over with Alicia Spinnett and Katie Bell. 

Thrusting it back at him, you insist, “No! I mean, maybe you should give it to Angelina, right? She might be cold too!” He gives you a confused look before it turns to frustration, shoving it back in your arms. 

“Why would I give it to Angelina?” You roll your eyes but give in, pulling it over your head. It’s huge on you, and you look down at the sleeves that go beyond your hands, flapping them a bit and giggling at it. When you look back up at Fred, he’s flushed bright red. When he meets your eyes he quickly looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

Oliver walks over to the two of you and notices the cut on Fred’s cheek. “Fred, mate, you need to get that cleaned up. Mason, you too. The wrist looks nasty, but it should be fine with a few healing spells.” You nod and go to pick up your broom. When you look back, Fred’s looking at you again.

“Mason, you’re good at charms, right? You wanna help me fix this up?” He gestures to his cheeks. You’re about to say yes, when you see Angelina over his shoulder. You quickly change your mind.

“Uhh… No! I mean, yes, but I’m not nearly as good at healing spells as Angelina.” This gets her attention and she looks slightly confused, but nods a bit. “There, see? She can help you. She’ll be much better at it.” Fred frowns at you, but you turn away before he can say anything. Instead you look at Harry.

“Harry, you can help me since you ruined my jacket.” You begin walking off, Harry protesting but following you anyway. You can feel eyes on your back, but you ignore them and think of what a good wingman you’d make.

Harry catches up to you, Ron beside him, and the three of you walk back to the castle together. When you glance over your shoulder, Fred is talking to Angelina who seems to be healing his cut. You feel heat in your stomach but ignore it. Instead you look back at Ron and focus on what he’s saying. 

What a good wingman indeed.

**********

Another week passes and once more it’s the weekend. The days passed by somewhat normally. You eat meals with Yvonne, Dennis, and Roger, you hang out with them in the common room, study for arithmancy with Dennis because he’s much better at it than you are. There were slight differences to your routine, however. When walking between classes, you didn’t scold students for minor infractions. You decided to let it go when you saw some students play wrestling in the courtyard. You even turned the other way when you noticed someone trying to pull a harmless prank on their friend. You allowed people to break minor rules… and it felt good. You felt less stressed and a bit more carefree. You’re happy with the progress you’ve made.

You’ve also been spending more time with the Weasley twins. It was usually just Fred and you, but George would often tag along. You’d talk in the hallway between classes, hang out by the pond before dinner, and even met up with them in the library once. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen the twins in the library, and it became clear why when Madam Pomfrey kicked them out only an hour in for being disruptive.

Right now you’re sitting in the great hall with Fred before dinner. George is off with Lee Jordan somewhere, and you and Fred decided to play a game of wizard’s chess to try and save you from boredom. You may be a Ravenclaw, but you’re absolute bollocks at chess. Competition is stressful and you prefer the much simpler alternative of checkers. Unfortunately, they don’t have checkers in the wizarding world, and Fred had never even heard of the game. Being a half-blood yourself, it was always a classic growing up.

But with no checkers, you were stuck playing chess and being beaten horribly by Fred. As he captures your second bishop, you sigh and lean your forehead against the table.

“Come on, Fred, that was completely unnecessary. You’re already two moves away from a checkmate, why’d you have to go and take my bishop? He wasn’t doing anything!” You hear Fred laugh as his rook slashes apart your bishop. You wince at the sound of your broken piece crumbling on the board.

“Because, Mason, battle is brutal and unforgiving. Plus I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. Felt rather rude.” Your prop your head up on your chin, digging it into the wood of the table. 

“The way it was looking at you? It’s a chess piece, Frederick, it wasn’t looking at you at all. Besides, how could a tiny bishop even manage to give you the stink eye?” He laughs and ignores the board for a moment, propping his head on his hand and smiling down at you.

“Oh, you know, in that magical way bishops have about them. And it was no stink eye he was giving me, no. It was bedroom eyes, Mason, and I simply can’t have a grown bishop wagging his sinful eyebrows at me. Not in public, at least.” You laugh despite yourself. Your chin is starting to hurt, so you tilt your head to the side, letting your cheek rest against the cool surface. You feel fingers running through your loose hair, pushing a strand back from your face behind your ear. You close your eyes a bit, enjoying the feeling of Fred’s long fingers in your hair.

“Oh, I’m sure the bishop wanted you oh so bad, Fred. They are known to be quite randy, I hear. And what with you looking all fine as you do over there…” You trail off, flushing a bit as you realize what you said. You try to laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound too forced, but there’s still no response from Fred. His fingers have stopped moving in your hair.

You’re about to look up at him when all of a sudden his face is directly in your line of sight. He’s leaning down, resting his cheek on the table right in front of your own. Your faces are only about 20 centimeters apart. You flush a bit more.

He’s wiggling his eyebrows at you. “‘Looking fine,’ huh? Are you saying I’m attractive, then?” You huff a laugh and close your eyes. You don’t think you’d be able to admit anything if you’re looking at him.

“Oh, please, Weasley. As if you don’t know how handsome you are.” You expect to hear a laugh and some self-assured comment, but there’s only silence. Opening your eyes, you see a curious and slightly serious expression on his face. Your eyebrows furrow.

“No, actually, I don’t,” he says, voice lower. You frown.

“What do you mean? Surely you’ve looked in a mirror.” He gives a quick smile before going back to his serious expression.

“Well, yeah, but… I don’t know. Bill’s always been the handsome one, you know. Charlie, too. George and I joke about it, but we’re always the funny ones, you know? Which is nice and all, but they never mention our looks or even anything else about us. Just… we’re the pair, always together, always funny.” He huffs out a breath and seems to be thinking for a moment before his eyes widen and he looks back at you.

“Not that I need to be called handsome or anything. That must have sounded awfully conceited of me, huh?” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh and you frown even more. Taking a deep breath, you slide your face just a bit closer to his. The movement catches his attention, and you speak.

“Fred… You and George are brothers and twins, but you’re two different people. Of course you are. You are individual people with unique personalities. I’m sorry you get pushed together all the time. It’s not fair to either of you.” His eyes widen slightly and this time he scoots his face a bit closer. You continue.

“And it’s not conceited to want to be recognized as something other than funny. Everyone wants to be recognized for their nicer qualities. It’s not self-centered to think you’re attractive or want other people to think so. It’s not at all. And for the record, you’re incredibly handsome, Fred Weasley, and that’s a fact. You take people’s breath away.” It’s silent for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another, searching the other’s eyes for something. You’re not sure what.

Then, in a whisper he asks, “What about you?” You look at him, confused.

“What about me?”

“Do I take your breath away?’ You stop breathing for a few beats of silence when he asks you this. At first you want to be honest and say yes, of course he takes your breath away. But then you remember Angelina and the promise you silently made. You try to laugh it off.

“Why Fred Weasley, are you fishing for more compliments?” You see his face fall for a moment in what looks like disappointment before a smile forces its way onto his face.

“Just curious is all,” he says, eyes still searching yours. For once, you hope they don’t find what they’re looking for. Glancing up, beyond the face in front of you, you see that students are starting to arrive for dinner. Among them, beside Alicia and Katie, stands Angelina. You frown for a moment, confusing Fred. You look back at him, pulling yourself up off the table. You nod your head towards them as you do the same.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m sure you take her breath away. And that matters much more than me, don’t you think?” At that you stand, getting ready to move over to the Ravenclaw table. You don’t give him a chance to respond as you start walking away, only briefly catching the look of surprise, confusion, and hurt on his face. You feel sick when you see this, but you can’t imagine why he’d be feeling that way. You’re trying to help him, doesn’t he see that?

Sighing, you spot Yvonne at your usual seats. Hopefully you can forget about it by the time dinner is done.

**********

More weeks pass with more ‘lessons in fun with Fred,’ as he likes to call them. The two of you have been sneaking off to the kitchens more, lightly jogging in the halls (you still refuse to run), and even exploring abandoned wings you previously thought you had no business being in. Your activities aren’t exactly breaking rules, which you appreciate greatly, but they’re still adventurous enough to be fun and please Fred. Eventually you’ve stopped calling them lessons in fun. Now he just asks if you want to hang out, and you always say yes.

Along with the time you spend with Fred comes feelings. You believed your affection towards him to be minor and temporary when you first decided to help him with Angelina. Now there’s a tight pain in your chest every time you nudge him towards her or leave him alone just as she comes up to him. You never stay long enough to see them interact, as you think that would only hurt you more. Despite yourself, you hope he’s been getting along well with her.

It’s raining outside, and so instead of your usual walk around the grounds you find yourself curled up in an armchair in the library, reading a book you borrowed from Yvonne. You’re only half paying attention, often finding yourself staring out the window, watching the rain fall and the trees sway in the harsh wind. 

It’s when you once again find yourself staring out the window that someone comes over and sits in the armchair across from you. Glancing over, you see Fred with his band slung over his shoulder, smiling over at you. You shift your body towards him, surprised.

“Fred! I don’t think I’ve seen you in the library before.” You joke with him, and he gives a short laugh.

“Yes, well, I’ve got some work to do. I figured you’d be here and I wanted some company. If you don’t mind, that is.” You smile and shake your head.

“I’ll never say no to your company, Fred.” He gives you a wide smile and stares at you for a moment before shaking his head and digging through his back. You watch him pull out a book on charms and one on potions along with a scroll, and so you leave him be, assuming he’s doing some homework. 

You spend a peaceful hour in the library with Fred, reading your book and occasionally pretending not to notice him staring at you every once in a while. Eventually you finish another chapter as the book starts to slow down a bit, and you stretch in your chair, looking over at what Fred’s doing. Seeing his parchment, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. That’s certainly no homework you’ve seen.

The boy himself is still focused entirely on what he’s doing, and so you lean forward a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of his writing or sketches. Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that a candy that causes your nose to bleed?” His head shoots up to look at you and he flushes when he realizes you’ve seen what he’s working on. 

“Oh, uh, yes it is. It’s just an idea that I came up with. I’m trying to find a way to make it work, but George is really the brains between the two of us.” He gives an awkward laugh and you frown.

“You’re just as smart as he is Fred, especially if you can come up with ideas like this all on your own. You have a different type of intelligence is all. Don’t doubt yourself.” He gives you a wide-eyed stare for a moment before cracking a smile.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” You nod before standing and walking over towards his chair, propping yourself on the arm next to him. He stiffens a bit before slowly relaxing, leaning a bit closer so you can see the rest of his parchment. 

“What is this?” You ask. He gives you an excited grin.

“This,” he says, “is the beginning of a legacy George and I are trying to create. See, we want to run a joke shop stocked full of our own creations, like this one here.” He points down at the sketch labeled ‘nosebleed nougat’ next to another drawing of a telescope with a boxing glove springing out of it. You smile as you watch his face light up while he describes his ideas to you. He seems to be more passionate about this future joke shop than anything else you’ve seen him talk about and it’s incredible. His eyes are bright, his hands waving in excitement, and you can tell by just his voice how much he cares about this.

After a few minutes he winds down, finally glancing back up at you as though he’s just remembered you’re there. He rubs the back of his neck and blushes a little.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m sure I was boring you.” He sighs and looks back down at the parchment. “It’s a mad idea anyway. Our mum doesn’t like the idea, says we should go for some ministry job or something instead. I know she only wants us to have a stable job, but George and I have never really fit into the realm of academic achievement. Then we came up with this idea and were quite proud of it, but… I don’t know, I suppose even when we consider ourselves successful, it’s a failure to everyone else.” 

You frown and notice that he’s no longer looking up at you, but down and away from you, playing with the edge of his parchment. Narrowing your eyes, you place one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, pulling his face towards you. You’re not sure if he was blushing before you touched him or if it was the contact that caused the redness of his cheeks. His eyes are wide as he takes in your stern look.

“Frederick Weasley, you are in no way a failure and anyone who says you are is insecure, jealous, or a hateful prat you shouldn’t be listening to anyway. You are incredible Fred, absolutely extraordinary and I find it hard to believe that anyone who knows you would think otherwise. You and George are no less than anyone else because they might work in the ministry and you decide to be entrepreneurs taking a risk for the sake of their happiness. You never cease to amaze, both of you, and I refuse to hear you talk so poorly of yourself.”

You stand up, letting go of him and instead kneeling by his legs, looking down at the parchment. “Fred, these ideas are close to genius. Each one of them is completely unique from the rest or anything else I’ve seen, and yet there’s no end to your creations. I know I haven’t actually known you for very long, but I’ve never seen you so passionate about anything. This,” you say, pointing down at the paper and looking into his eyes, “is what you’re good at. It’s clearly something you love, so why shouldn’t you turn it into your life? What’s the point of doing something if you don’t get something out of it? Sure, you’d get money out of a ministry job, but you can get money out of so many other things. This? The joke shop you and George want? You can get so much more than money, something that few people have the courage to go after.”

You reach up, touching his cheek again. He lets out a little breath and leans into your hand. “Ignore anyone who says you can’t or won't or shouldn’t. They don’t matter and listening to them will get you nowhere. The only person you need to be listening to is yourself. And maybe George.” You end with a laugh, standing again. For once you’re taller than Fred, who’s still sitting down. Looking at the top of his head, you surprise yourself. Who knew someone’s head could be cute?

Looking back down at him, you say, “If it makes any difference to you, I believe in you.” The two of you are still for a moment before he begins to stand, shoving his books and parchment down onto the chair where he just was. Rising to his feet, he quickly takes a step toward you and engulfs you in a hug, squeezing you tighter than you’ve ever been squeezed before.

Laughing, you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes so he doesn’t have to lean down so much to reach you. You’re not sure how long you stand there, but for a while the two of you are quiet and still, just hugging and breathing the other in. You don’t quite reach his shoulders, and so you let your nose bury itself into his sweater as you lay your cheek against his chest. If you pay attention, you can listen to his heart beating just as fast as yours is. You smile.

After about a minute, he shifts, leaning his mouth down close to your ear. He whispers your name before silently saying, “Thank you. I just… thank you.”

You lean back a bit and smile up at him, noticing the way his breath catches. “Of course. I don’t think I’ll ever not believe in you. After all, you’re Fred Weasley, Gryffindor and all.” He gives you a gentle smile and seems to be thinking for a moment before tilting his head a bit.

“The idea of this joke shop isn’t the only thing that makes me happy, you know.” You give a confused smile, trying to understand what he’s saying, but it’s unclear. He finally lets go of you, and you try not to shiver at the sudden cold surrounding you. Backing away, the two of you go back to sitting in your armchairs, but he’s leaning forward, forearms on his knees as he prepares to say something else.

“I was actually wondering… why do you keep trying to set me up with Angelina?” You flush at his question. You were hoping you had been subtle in your attempts, but you suppose not.

“Well, you know the day we all played quidditch and I accidentally flew right into you?” He nods, chuckling a bit. “Well, while you were getting the brooms and such, I was talking to George and he mentioned… well, he said that you fancy her and have for a while. I thought, you’re being so kind as to help me have more fun, the least I can do in return is to help you out with her.” You shake your fists a bit at the end in an attempt to look enthusiastic, but in reality you think your grimace shone through and it just seemed painful.

Fred has his head in one of his hands and you think you hear him mumble something about “god dammit George,” but you’re not sure. He suddenly lifts his head and looks at you somewhat determined.

“Do you know why I agreed to help you? It wasn’t entirely for your benefit, not really.” Now it’s your turn to look confused.

“What do you mean? Why else would you agree to do it?” He lifts out of his seat and crouches in front of you, placing his hands on your knees to keep him steady. You try to ignore the tingling feeling you get at his touch.

“Well, it was selfish, really. But that doesn’t really matter now. Mason, about Angelina-”

“Mason, there you are! I’ve been looking for you. Come on, slacker, we’re scheduled for patrol soon.” Walking around the corner of a bookshelf comes Dennis, slightly out of breath as he walks towards you. He barely spares Fred a glance as he picks up the book next to your chair along with your bag. You just open your mouth, unable to say anything. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Well? Come on miss prefect, we’ve got a job to do.” You wince, looking down at Fred. He just gives you a smile and stands, waving you away.

“Go on, then. We don’t want you to be late, now do we?” You stand, but are still hesitant to leave him.

“But you were saying something. What was it?” He just keeps smiling and picks up his things, placing them back in his lap as he sits down.

“Don’t worry about it, really. I can tell you later.” You bite your lip, pausing for one more moment before nodding.

“Alright then. I’ll see you later, Weasley.” With a wave you turn away, following Dennis. Glaring at his back as you catch up to him, you curse his interruption, even if it was responsible. 

**********

A week passes before you and Fred get the chance to talk about whatever he was saying. It’s been an uneventful day. No Hogsmeade trip, no quidditch match, and for once very little homework. You were lounging about, trying to find another book to possibly read when an idea popped into your head. Shooting up, you immediately leave your dorm and head down to the common room, spotting Yvonne, Dennis, and Roger sitting on the couch, not doing much. 

Marching over to them, you place your hands on your hips and say, “You three, follow me. Now.” They look to each other, confused by your sudden request and the almost manic smile on your face, but, shrugging, Dennis stands to follow you and the rest join in. Nodding, you turn and head out of the common room and down the hallway.

Your friends ask where you’re going, but you just smile and give them a wink before walking a little faster. Eventually you reach the portrait of the fat lady and you pause, frowning. You hadn’t really planned this far ahead. Looking around, you spot a small group of Gryffindor first years standing nearby.

“Hey!” You call out. Startled, they look over at you. You point at their group. “One of you, head inside your common room and get Fred Weasley, will you?” One of the boys steps forward, walking toward the portrait and stops, looking up at you.

“Um… Which one is Fred Weasley?” Sighing, and not quite knowing how to explain how you’re able to tell the difference between the two, you just tell him to get both. Nodding, he whisper the password and heads in, shutting the portrait behind him.

“So… why do we need the Weasley twins, exactly?” Looking back at Yvonne, you smile.

“You’ll see. I’ve got an idea. Something fun.” She looks slightly scared at the prospect, but you can’t imagine why. Roger is giving you a dubious look, and Dennis just looks excited. At least one of your friends is on board.

The portrait swings open again and out step Fred and George. Glancing between the two of them, you recognize which is Fred after a moment and smile up at him. He gives you a fond smile back and you blush a bit. George clears his throat.

“Yes! Hi! I’ve got an idea.” They both raise an eyebrow.

“An idea, eh?” George says. “And what might this idea be?” You give them a wicked grin.

“Hide and seek.” Everyone remains silent for a moment before Fred lets out a ‘pfft’ sound that leads into a full laugh. You glare at him.

“Don’t laugh, Fred. It’ll be fun! Today is terribly boring and I decided I wanted to have fun! And, well, my parents and I would always play hide and seek when I was a kid, which I thought was plenty of fun.” Your voice starts to quiet and you start thinking about your plan. 

“I guess it was kind of silly, wasn’t it?” You flush in embarrassment. “Never mind, then. We don’t have to play, I guess I just thought it was better than nothing, but you’re free to-”

“No!” You jump a bit, startled as Fred suddenly yells out. Looking at him, he’s leaning towards you, eyes wide. “No, we’ll play! It sounds fun, that wasn’t why I was laughing. I just… no, I want to play. We want to play, don’t we George?” He nudges George, who is looking at Fred with an amused smirk.

“Oh, yes of course we want to play. Perhaps one of us more than the other-” he gets another nudge for that- “but yes, definitely. I’ll go and get the others then.” As he heads back into the common room, you smile up at Fred, glad he decided to play.

“Thank you,” you say. A red flush crawls up his neck to his ears, and he looks away, shrugging. You hear a snort and turn back to your group of friends. Yvonne’s hands are covering her mouth and she looks much too excited. Roger just looks amused and shoots you a raised eyebrow, and Dennis is sizing up Fred in the protective way he does. You roll your eyes at them.

Soon enough, George comes back out with a group of Gryffindors, including Lee, Ron and Harry and their friends, as well as Angelina Johnson and her friends. You press your lips together and look down at your feet when you see Angelina. Fred notices them and nudges your side before reaching down, training his hand along your arm until he finally grasps your own hand in his. You suck in a breath as you look up at him. Meeting your gaze, he gives you what looks like a significant look, but you’re unsure what it means. You give him a hesitant smile before looking back at George who’s asking who wants to seek. 

You pay little attention to the talking going on around you, focusing instead on Fred’s hand gripping yours. It’s Roger and Yvonne who become the seekers, and as they cover their eyes and begin counting, everyone else begins to flee. You notice everyone seems to break into pairs, and for a moment your heart jumps at the thought of you hiding with Fred.

But then you see Angelina, and quickly pull your hand from his. He gives you a questioning glance, but you just push him forward slightly in her direction, nodding your head towards her. He looks where you’re pointing, and you’re surprised when he looks almost angry as he turns back at you. By then, however, you’ve already taken some steps away and turn towards Dennis, about to ask him to hide with you.

Before you can, though, you feel a hand grab your upper arm and drag you down the hallway. Yelping, you look up to see a hell-bent Fred, eyes straight ahead of him.

“Fred, what-” He puts a finger to his lips, looking back at Roger and Yvonne who are still counting. You keep quiet, but are still curious.

Never letting go of your arm, he drags you down the hall and up some stairs before reaching a hallway and stopping in the middle of it. Before you can sarcastically explain that the whole point of the game is to hide, he lifts a banner hanging on the wall out of the way, revealing a small opening. Gesturing for you to go ahead, you step into the hidden alcove, stunned. You had no idea it was even there. 

Stepping in, you realize it’s smaller than it looks. It’s tall enough for you to stand comfortable, but only about two meters in depth and two meters across. Your thoughts are interrupted when Fred steps in after you, letting the banner fall behind him and he leans on the wall across from you, crossing his arms. You suddenly have a nervous feeling.

“So,” he says, “what’s with you trying to get me with Angelina? Do you want me with her that bad?” You flush and look away from him.

“No. Well, yes, I suppose, if that’s what you want.”

“And if that’s not what I want?” Startled, you look up at him. He’s staring intensely back at you.

“What do you mean?” He pushes off the wall behind him and steps closer to you, towering over you. His arms uncross. Instead, he places one hand on the wall beside your head. If you thought the alcove was cozy before, now it seems suffocating.

“I mean, what if I don’t want you to try and help me? What if I want something else from you?” You frown.

“Well, I was only trying to help. You could stand to be a little thankful.” He sighs and shakes his head.

“You don’t get it, do you? Have I really not been clear?” He searches your eyes as he says this, thought for what you’re not sure.

“No, you haven’t been. If you want me to understand something then you should just say it outright. Besides, with Angelina, it’s not like you were doing anything-”

“Because I want to do you!” Your eyes widen at his exclamation, and after a second his do as well. “Oh Merlin, that is not what I meant. I mean- I meant it, but it came out all wrong!” He takes a step back, going from suave to a fumbling mess over the course of three seconds. You’d laugh if you weren’t shocked.

“I wanted to say that I want you, not Angelina. I don’t want to do you. Well…” He flushes even more and runs a hand through his hair. “Obviously I wouldn’t mind doing you, of course, but I’d phrase it in a more polite manner. Only if you want to though!” You feel your face heat up at his insinuation. Seeing this, he begins to panic even more before just sighing and facing the wall behind him, banging his head against it lightly. You hear a soft “get it together, Fred,” before you decide to put him out of his misery.

Taking a deep breath, you speak before you have the chance to think it over. “I’d want to.” He stops banging his head on the wall and slowly turns to you, face carefully blank. You look down and play with your fingers, trying to think of something to say to make it less awkward.

“I mean, not right now, of course. And probably not soon, but um… That’s not to say I only want you for-” You glance up at him quickly before clearing your throat. “This is a disaster, isn’t it?” He laughs.

“Yeah,” he says, “it really is. Sorry about that.” You smile and lean against the wall behind you, clasping your hands behind your back. 

“It’s ok, Fred. I think I understand what you were saying.” He gives you a hopeful look.

“You do?”

“Of course,” you say with a cheeky grin. “You want to do me, was that it?” He groans and huffs out an awkward laugh.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Peeking over at you, he takes a step forward, once more entering your personal space. You swallow, nervous from his proximity. He smiles and steps even closer, placing his hand back on the wall behind you.

“More than that, though… I suppose I just want you, however you’ll have me. We can stay as friends, of course, but I need you to know that I don’t fancy Angelina. I haven’t since over the summer.” He cups your jaw in his hands and lifts your face towards his so your eyes meet. 

“I fancy you,” he says in a quiet voice. Your breathing stutters as you hear his words and your heart feels like it’s too large for your chest. You give him a lopsided grin.

“Well, that’s good news.” His smile widens.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It just so happens that I fancy you as well.” He gives a breathless laugh before letting his head fall slowly, landing on your shoulder. Tilting his head, he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in.

“Isn’t that lucky,” he breaths. You remain wordless, but nod. You feel his smile against your skin. Lifting his head back up, he lets his cheek graze yours before coming to a stop right in front of you. His eyes are open, looking into your own. He whispers your name.

“Can I kiss you?” The words startle you, though you suppose they shouldn’t. What else would he be going for with his face right in front of yours.

You nod and he smiles, but before he can move forward you place a finger on his lips. He raises an eyebrow, but presses a small kiss to your lips anyway.

“You can kiss me,” you say, now with a smirk, “if you can catch me.” And with that you duck under his arm and tear through the banner, racing down the hall with a laugh. You hear him swatting the curtain aside as he steps into the hall.

“That’s not the game we’re playing!” You laugh some more and glance over your shoulder, slowing down for a moment.

“It is now,” you call back, once more tearing down the hallway. You hear him laugh behind you before his footsteps come chasing after you. Your stomach does a flip at this and you duck around the corner and heading up the first staircase you can find.

You manage to keep him chasing for nearly a solid minute or so, but his long legs give him an unfair advantage and soon enough he has you trapped in a dead end. Smiling, you slowly back up as he walks towards you, both of you out of breath. Your back hits the stone wall behind you and all that’s left is for you to wait as he approaches you with a grin on his face. He steps up close to you, placing his hands on your waist. 

“Naughty girl, Mason.” You raise an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Weasley.” You see him stutter in his confidence at your insinuation before he shakes his head, chuckling. 

“I know you said women aren’t written in braille,” he says as he lean down towards you, eyes looking into yours. “I don’t know what language you’re written in, but holy hell I want to speak it.” Before you have any time to react to his unbelievably smooth line, he leans in the last few centimeters and kisses you.

It’s a gentle kiss in which he tests the waters to see how you react. Tilting your head up, you lift your arms and wrap them around his neck, pulling him in closer. He makes a happy sound before deepening the kiss, opening his mouth slightly to pull your bottom lip in. You can’t help but sigh and smile, meeting him halfway for the next one.

The two of you stand there, your kisses growing more fervent until you pull away, out of breath. You look at each other before starting to laugh, leaning your foreheads against the other’s. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Weasley.” He gives you a wink, his eyes bright.

“I never plan on stopping, Mason.” With that he kisses you again, and you let him.


End file.
